#notes to unlived time

[thegirlsread]

ellena savage, ‘notes to unlived time’ in blueberries

#ellena savage #blueberries #notes to unlived time #currently reading

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk

[leclerc-hs]

marked - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: a request from anon ‘Charles marking you as his’ Warnings: smut, choking, language, 18+ Word Count: 546 Author’s Note: I apologize for it being short!!!! I think I want to attempt to write a short series maybe. Any ideas on what it should be about? ALSO HAPPY FERRARI LOCKOUT DAY. I am praying we can stay on podium today lmaooo French edits made by @shewantsvengeance!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IF YOU HAD to ask anybody, they would tell you that Charles was a rather generous being. He was always willing to provide help to someone in need. When your friend’s house had a gas leak, he provided her a space to crash for the time being. Whenever somebody needed a ride, he was the person to call. If you forgot your wallet, don’t worry he already covered it anyways.

So, when your apartment was deemed unlivable due to remodeling, he promptly extended a warm welcoming haven for you to find solace in.

The dynamic between you and Charles was a peculiar one, not yet falling into the category of an official couple yet possessing an unmistakable intensity. It was as if a protective aura enveloped the two of you; anyone daring to cast even a fleeting thought in your direction was met with a foreboding presence. Regardless of the official label, you were his. He was yours.

Which is how you found yourself here. In this present moment. With Charles hand gripped around your neck as you straddled him on the couch.

“Fuck,” he grunted as you hastily worked yourself over his cock. The deep groan he elicited had your lip quivering. His hands grasped onto your hips tightly, guiding you. “Gonna take it all, huh?”

“Gonna be a good cumslut for me, princesse?” He wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Shut up and make me cum already,” you couldn’t help but bite back. He possessed a remarkable talent for teasing, edging you for what has felt like hours. It was torment, pushing you to the threshold of your orgasm but then denying it before you could jump over the edge.

“Feisty, hm?” his hands slipped back up to your neck, squeezing hard. “Don’t be a brat.”

Tiny beads of sweat started to form on the edge of his eyebrow, the veins of his neck visible. You wished you could take a picture.

You felt your hips start to lose rhythm as your legs grew weaker. You are a whimpering wet mess. “Can’t even ride me properly,” a smirk formed on his lips.

“Please, Cha,” you begged, currently on the verge of having a break down from the frustration. “I need-“

“Need me to fuck you? Can’t get yourself off alone baby? So useless.” He was laughing. It made your pussy clench harder. You didn’t even have to respond before Charles was flipping you under him on the couch. Your hands immediately grasping onto the back of the couch for support as he fucked you from behind.

He leaned forward, his body arched over yours, his lips found a place on your neck. With a deliberate intention, he sucked hard. No doubt leaving a dark purple like bruise on the cusp of your neck and jaw. Claiming you.

The mixture of his fervent sucking with the drilling of his hips was more than enough to send you teetering over the edge this time. His, right behind you. You were screaming, tears escaping your eyes as you felt yourself squeezing all around his cock.

You were both out of breath. Collapsed on one another on the couch. Completely ruined, that’s how you felt. The giant reddish purple on your neck was sore, Charles finger tracing it with a smile.

“Everyone will know you’re mine now.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc

[0anonnymouslyours0]

hi I have literally never done this before but I saw your post just now and thought what the heck

could you write a small thing about spencer reid where reader and him are neighbours and they both have a little crush on each other but never get to interact because spencer is literally never there

until either reader or spencer's apartment floods and it's 3am so they just go to their neighbour and there's maybe a cute confession?

(feel free to add your own pizzazz I love your writing!!!) <3333

hihihi girl! request anytime! this also ended up being a lotttt longer then intended <3

warnings: none, its fluffy its cute, like rlly cute and a bit cliche.

spencer reid. that was your neighbours name. considering he was home very little, you'd only seen him a few times and you've never even spoken a word; it seemed silly how much time you spent thinking about him.

you'll admit, your a sucker for a tall brunette with glasses, who wore ties and vests, and perhaps looked just a little nerdy. it was sweet, spencer looked very sweet.

he also happens to be your next door neighbour. like literally, you open the door of your house every day, and are confronted with the site of his own house. he's right there. you've debated sliding a note under his door, or just knocking and suggesting coffee, but you've always backed out.

the opportunity however, presents itself in a slightly annoying way. in the afternoon, you arrive home and walk into your living room to discover the entire floor flooded. one quick check of the house, and you've determined the entire place is flooded.

"jesus christ." you mutter, dialing a plumber and the flood services in your city.

when they arrive, its determined your house will be unliveable for 2 days. 2 whole days.

the plumber, matt, stares at you. "apologies, lady, but your pipes are pretty busted. its gonna cost you too."

you groan, annoyed.

"oh, uh your neighbour, you should check with them. see if they've got any issues." he adds.

you stop, spencer. your neighbour. you have a reason to go talk to him. you leave the plumber, and his little team to get to work, and cross the street to spencers house.

knock. knock.

maybe he isnt home. you look at his driveway. his car is there. the door creaks, and opens, revealing spencer reid. the man himself. in all his messy hair, rumpled shirt, afternoon glory. he pushes his glasses up, staring at you, suprised.

"hi. sorry i'm-"

"y/n." he says, quickly, and then flushes.

"right." your suprised he knows your name, though you do know his. "look uhm, sorry to bother you.. but my house kind of flooded. like everywhere. so, uhh- i was just checking if your house is all good."

his eyes widen. "your entire house? is flooded?"

you nod, grimacing. "yeah.. i mean my stuffs fine, i just have to find somewhere to stay and its a pain." you say, folding your arms and sighing.

he looks at you for a moment, thoughtful.

"uh.. besides from the fact im a total stranger.. you could um, stay with me? i mean. i have a guest room, im usually out all day. i'll cook." he says, quickly. he looks at you, expecting a no.

your suprised at his offer, intrigued even. he seems safe, your not uncomfortable.. and it would save you from having to stay in some cheap hotel.

"really? i mean- are you sure?" you confirm, raising your eyebrows at him.

he nods energetically, smiling. "i mean, it would be easier for you."

you nod, smiling back.

"well.. uh come in?" he says, shuffling to the side awkwardly.

his house is delightful, with heavy linen curtains, and tall bookshelves. the house is mostly wood, with touches of green and navy. it fits him perfectly.

"nice place you have here." you say, smiling.

"thank you." he says, staring at you for a moment. you catch him, and he looks away quickly.

"do you, uhm want a coffee? we can sit for a bit if you'd like." he says, gesturing at the couches in his living room.

you nod. "black with sugar, please."

"oh- i have mine just the same." he grins, hurrying off the the kitchen, before returning with a cup for you. he sits opposite you, studying you for a moment.

"so.. spencer, how long have you lived here?" you ask.

"5 years. which.. i think is a year longer then you?" he smiles.

"correct. uh, where do you work?"

he pauses, thinking thoughtfully. "truthfully, i work in the fbi. behavioral analysis unit." he says, staring right at you.

you shuffle in your seat, suddenly aware that this possibly means he can read your every emotion, or thought.

"thats very.. impressive, but then again you do have an intelligent look to you."

he chuckles, "well, i have been told i dress the part."

you laugh, smiling at him.

"you know.. i noticed you a while ago." he says, looking down at his coffee and swirling it.

you raise an eyebrow, curious.

"how so?"

"well, if i may be bold, your very- uhm very pretty."

your eyes widen, taken aback. you flush, letting out a soft giggle.

"you think so?" you whisper, staring at him. he finally looks up at you, nodding.

"do you say that to all the women you invite into your home?" you tease.

"i don't often invite women into my home.. in fact, you might be a first. quite special." he smiles. your cheeks feel hotter.

"well, spencer, i noticed you a while ago too. your very cute. you might be just my type." you say, staring at him.

its his turn to blush, and he looks nervous, as he turns away from you, lips parting into a smile.

"perhaps a blessing in disguise your apartment being flooded.." he whispers, the smile evident in his voice.

"i mean," you chuckle. "there has been one good outcome.."

"mmm.. silver linings and all." he says, turning to look you right in the eye. its sweet, hes very sweet. you think your very much going to enjoy your next two days here... perhaps even extend your stay.

#HES SO CUTE AWW #oneshot #fluff #female reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid smut

[yuri-is-online]

Fyuuture Kid AU is actually my favorite au of yours; I just think it's cute! How's floyd Yutu? I feel like there would be a thin line between "You're cool ig" and "You and shrimp are a little... close. Stop it." But once he knows that's his kid? Yeah all bets are of. Sorry Azul; he actually CANT go to work today he's too busy being a FATHER and a HUSBAND (these single fucks can cry about it)

No because this is exactly what I see happening and just the image of Floyd being like "nah I can't hang out spouse needs my help with the kid. Oh you wouldn't get it because YOU GOT NO BITCHES" he's just so silly I love him so much (つ╥﹏╥)つ

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of the fyuuture kid au, Floyd's part can be found here, and the explanation for the au can be found here. You can find even more stuff for it on my masterlist under the series section.

Yutu wasn't really prepared for the first people he saw to be his parents. He knew he was going to have to see them eventually, and he did a lot of preparing mentally for seeing Yuu again but his dad? His father who he has heard so many stories about, the person he admires second only to you?

"And who's this little guppy?" The whites of Floyd's eyes widen as he zeros in on him, Yutu's senses force him to drop into a defensive stance and get in between the danger and Yuu. He's being circled by a larger, more dangerous predator. Every nerve ending in his body is screaming he is in danger, that Yuu's in danger, but he feels happy. He knows what his father's voice sounds like now.

"I ain't a guppy." The points of his teeth flash, but Floyd isn't amused by Yutu's claim.

"You are what I say you are, small fry."

Floyd! Yutu is very extroverted. He enjoys talking to people and had a lot of friends before and after being isekaid. If Yuu or one of his friends was more introverted he took a great deal of pride in doing most of the talking for them. He likes being helpful, or at least he says he does. If you've seen those videos of morays who act like puppies around divers they've known for years, that's sort of how Yutu acts. He's a big puppy who pretends not to know his own strength. Unless your his parent, he fears no man, but Yuu's wrath? That scares him.

He's similar to Floyd in school performance, he doesn't like to pay attention so he doesn't always do well. He didn't have a choice about paying attention to magic classes though, among all the different versions of Yutu, Floyd! Yutu might be one of the most cracked when it comes to combat magic. If you were to ask him about it, he'd say he sees his skill as another way of being helpful, but that prey drive is no joke he does like a good fight. Just not when that fight is against his dad...

He has always loved the water, whether he was swimming or out playing in the rain he always felt most at home in the water. In your world he was on his school's swim team, and while Yutu gets why he isn't allowed to be on NRC's he is still a bit salty about it. On the one hand he gets to actually live in the water now. On the other he sort of needs to find a hobby.

Maybe he could focus more on cooking? Or fishing? Or would that just be hunting under the sea...

The oceans of Twisted Wonderland were never safe, but in the time that Yutu arrived in they had become borderline unlivable due to blot pollution. Yutu really loved being in Octavinelle for allowing him to experience a little slice of what the Coral Sea was supposed to have been like. The version of the dorm he was placed in didn't have the lounge anymore, so he is very curious about Azul's business.

Papa (Floyd) Leech isn't very impressed. On the one hand he thinks it is kind of funny watching the shrimplet run around campus following Yuu like he's convinced they're going to disappear. Floyd feels like that sometimes too, it makes him want to drown you in his embrace and keep you here forever but he tries to ignore those feelings most of the time.

On the other hand knowing he can't just drop by Ramshackle and have you all to himself anymore makes it really hard to ignore them. Shrimplet doesn't even have the sense to be afraid of him, Floyd swears he gets excited when he threatens to give him a squeeze. And what's worse is you are really protective of him! Sure you're protective of Baby Seal too, but he's got enough sense to piss off when Floyd glares at him. He does leave when Floyd threatens to fight him, but not because he's scared. He looked sad actually, which Floyd clocks and brings back to Jade and Azul.

You asked another question about what happened to the boys in the bad future, and I want to save most of my thoughts related to what happened to Floyd for that answer, but Jade was still alive when Yutu got isekaid and he was able to meet him. They had a really good relationship, so when Jade comes sniffing around for information, Yutu is able to dodge his questions pretty easily. Future! Jade actually used his signature spell on him before he traveled back in time just to fuck with his past self. He did make his nephew promise to tell him if the one use rule applied to this case. Partially for science, partially because he knew that it would give his younger self the chance to keep the information to himself.

And keep it to himself he does- sort of. He makes sure Yutu knows he knows, but he never explicitly says anything to him. No what he wants to do is distract Yutu so Floyd can be a sulky coward in peace. That he does make clear to Yutu, he would like his brother to have more than one kid for him to be a bad influence on and he needs him to actually make a move on Yuu for that to happen.

I am not 100% on how the reveal on how Floyd learns about what's happening and who Yutu is, but once he does he is very serious about it. He wants to know what Yutu thought about him, why he knows more about Jade then his dear old dad, and what happened to Yuu to make him so protective. Wasn't he there at all? He'd never abandon his mate or his son... little shrimplet knows that, right?

Well he's just going to have to make sure he does know that. And everyone else too, "these single fucks can cry about it" indeed. Yutu is getting dragged to the Atlantica Memorial Museum so they can swim and talk about Azul's overblot, and how cute his parent was for standing up to him. He still wants to spend time alone with Yuu sometimes, but he gets why Yutu is afraid of letting them out of his sight now. He would feel the same way. If Floyd can manage it he wants to take him back home too (not to introduce him to the grandparents since that would just raise questions), since Yutu never got to go there.

Floyd would be such a good dad. An embarrassing one too, you know he teases Yutu, roughhouses with him, and openly flirts with Yuu in front of him. He's really looking forward to getting to be embarrassingly in love with Yuu in the future, and no silly "end of the world" thing is going to stop him.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech x yuu #future kid au

[fungisthings]

Astarion x Eldarin!Reader HC

Gender-neutral reader, no pronouns mentioned | Author's note: I'm back and obsessed with Astarion... No surprises here! The Eladrin (or Eldarin as I spell it) are my favourite race in D&D so I must write for it <3 | Not proof read | 536 words

When you admitted to being an Eldarin — a race of Fey, the ancestors of elves and drow — Astarion was surprised for certain!

I mean, the Eldarin are not a common race in Faerûn, nor in the rest of Toril, but it's not to say he's displeased, not at all!

After all, he's finally got a reason as to why your blood tastes so... Distinctive. Almost as if the weave itself was infused within you.

The Eldarin weren't so different from the elves, so there wasn't much change in the first place, and the reason why you hid so well in the first place.

Astarion doesn't mean to cause harm, but he certainly loves to ask questions about your history and home. Since you're most likely from the feywild, not Faerûn.

He loves to ask questions about your native language — Sylvan, asking how you would address him and how to flirt. He wants to call you all sorts of beautiful things in your language.

Though, he has to start getting used to the fact that your emotions determine how you look.

It's probably why you told him in the first place — your emotions will inevitably change and so will your look. And you don't want to scare him when you change from your autumnal colours to your winter as you think to the future in sorrow; or rather his or your own past, depending which crosses your mind.

He's very intent on listening to you explain it all. Wanting to understand this new part of you fully.

When he notices you've changed to your winter season, he does everything in his power to see that is no longer so. Even potentially seeing your spring glory.

Astarion is always so careful when noticing your changes. Not because he doesn't want to lose what he is familiar with, no, he simply wants a better grasp of you.

The first time you openly use feystep it scared the crap out of him. Gods, you've just told him about how you change according to how you feel, now you teleport around with no warning! It's like you're trying to give him a heart attack. (As much as he can for an unliving vampire.)

He eventually gets used to it, stops jumping whenever you're suddenly by his side, or wrapping your arms around him in the blink of an eye.

For your other changes, he swears you're colder than a corpse in your winter season and hogs the blankets (out of love). And in your summer season, he's so careful... He thought you were sick at first, with how hot your skin burned, but eventually got used to it. It just feels so odd against his frigid skin.

When he sees you bloom in spring for the first time, he swears you are the most adorable thing in the world. Look at you! Blooming a flower atop your head just because he made you laugh! Gods, he loves you so much.

At the end of the day, he finds all these unusual features of yours all the more endearing than ever before, not quite caring you've kept this secret for so long.

But please, don't keep anymore, okay?

Characters I write for | Masterlist

#astarion #astarion x male reader #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion x male tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanart

[fallinfl0wers]

i love you more than you'll ever know

fandom: genshin impact characters: albedo, venti, zhongli, xiao, wanderer reader type: gender neutral summary: yearning for someone came hand in hand with heartache. genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort. warnings: implied reader's death, also implied character death (xiao and wanderer kinda uh want to unlive themselves but not explicitly? i think?), mourning, slight sumeru spoilers for wanderer's. written as of 3.2 update. notes: inspired by hikaru utada's one last kiss. might do a part two, not sure when it'll be ready haha. xiao's and wanderer's are longer because i love them and i was feeling sadder as i wrote them so lol there they are. i'm sleepy but i wanted to finish these... i'll see if theres anything i need to edit tomorrow.

The meaning of this world, the truth of this world, Albedo thinks, is held within your hands. It is perhaps not the one he was looking for, or the one he had been expected to find, but personally? He would take this as the truth of the world.

Love is the truth of this world, the meaning of all sentient existence. The love one takes and gives, selflessly yet selfish al the same. The kind of love one feels from friends and family and lovers. Love is what really gives the world a meaning for those who live in it.

And for him, it is your love that fills his life with a new meaning.

Love that made him step away from experiments and investigation to take a stroll through the city, love that made him blush and giggle, love that brought a foreign yet sweet warm sensation to his chest, love that you held within your hands every time your fingers intertwined.

Love that somehow, with no reasoning or explanation, survived through all the uncertainty of fate, and the undeniable, unescapable cycle of life and death.

When your and Albedo's story is forced to come to a stop, he won't deny he felt his whole world came crashing down. Yet, more than anything, he feels grateful.

Perhaps at that time, he still would not find the truth of the world his master wanted him to. But one thing is for sure, and that's because of you, and everything you taught him.

If time and chance allow it, his love for you will be immortalized in paintings exhibited in museums; depictions of you and him, and you, you, you and you. Even when he, himself, has long since disappeared, that last trace of your love, of the truth of his world, will be preserved.

For Venti, freedom is everything. He would never tie you down so you could stay with him, even if that is what he would want the most. However, that also means he will not stop you if you, of your own free will, decide to spend the rest of your life with him.

He is selfish, just not selfish enough to decide what is best for you in your stead. This is why, he wholeheartedly decides to love you back without holding anything back, living each day like it is the last, enjoying the present doing anything and everything and nothing all at the same time.

It's ballads and tales, it's drinking and laughing at his silly shenanigans when he gets drunk, it's enjoying the breezes as you glide together and resting on the green hills and valleys of Mondstadt together, every day something new, every day a new memory to keep.

But, he knows, this won't last.

He is very well acquainted with loss, and the fragility of human life.

That is why he insisted on spending so much time together, it is why he was always clingy whenever the timing was right, why he insisted on making you laugh and smile every single day you were together.

The years spent together may seem long to you, even as you took your final breath. Yet, for him, it truly felt like it had been merely the blink of an eye. A momentary sigh, a brief instant of happiness.

Venti will sing ballads of you, for an audience of people or the always reliable, always present audience of the winds. And he knows that, even once his days come to an end, and until the end of this world, your love will be preserved, for eternities to come.

There is, after all, no world where the wind doesn't blow, even if it has come to an stop.

For Zhongli, contracts are everything. In his eyes, promises made are promises kept, and that is precisely what he does.

To you, he promised his love. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, in life and death. In his own experience and words, everything must come to an end and every journey has its final day, but there is no need to rush. This is why, he never makes it a point to consciously think about the clock mercilessly ticking by as you spend your life with him.

Zhongli, the human, lives with you and shares countless experiences after experiences with you. From the simplest glance to the longest conversation to the harshest of arguments to the sweetest of kisses, Zhongli makes sure to live it with you, in the present moment, mind focused on here and now, carving each memory into his heart with the same precision an artist would carve a statue out of the finest jade.

The former god understands and accepts your mortality, and accepts it as a part of what makes you be who you are. He accepts it, and holds your hand, ever so resilient, as you take your last breaths, and bids you goodbye with a grateful smile and teary eyes.

Perhaps the legends of the mighty God of Contracts will never talk about your love, but even if there is no one left to share your memories with him, until erosion eventually claims him too, his heart won't stop beating for you.

Xiao would be lying if he said he never once doubted your sanity in the time he's known you. After all, why would you do something so terrible to yourself like willingly spending time with him? You must've been insane, he thought.

But, in reality, he was glad you were that little bit insane enough to open a space for him in your life.

From the very start, he's known you wouldn't be there forever. He is all too aware of how fragile life is, of how ephemeral you truly are. Like the sweetest of dreams, you feel like a fragile illusion of happiness that will be gone in the blink of an eye. Oh, but you are real, you are oh so real, and he knows it when you cradle his face with your hands and gently wipe the tears that silently fall down from his tired eyes that stare ahead, filled with complicated emotions, on a face far too unused to emoting, on a body far too small for the true amount of feelings that resided within it.

And he is quiet but his mind is loud, keeps him hyper aware of how short these moments of joy and peace are with you. And, although he would've never blamed you if you ever decided to leave him of your own will, he is glad you never did, he is glad that you would never do so. He is glad that you decided to spend your days with him, glad you were patient enough to wait for him to learn how to properly love you, glad you let him love you.

The days spent with you are easily the best fragment of Xiao's life. Short-lived, ephemeral, dreamlike, everything. Unforgettable.

He would like to keep you forever. His most selfish, impossible dream is for you to stay forever by his side. Greedy he is, but never enough to burden you with such thoughts. Instead, he took every opportunity he had to spend time with you, no matter what you were doing, he wanted to be there, even if it was in a place he didn't like, he didn't want to waste a single second of your life.

When you depart from the world of the living, a part of him leaves with you.

And, Xiao knew when he fell in love. You would be the death of him.

He won't last long after you leave.

He'll do his best to live, because he knows you would want him to live, but he truly won't be able to do so for long.

Legends will speak of the tragically beautiful love that Liyue's last Yaksha had towards a human, speak of how he learned how to be human for love, of how his love was so intense and pure it was the only thing that kept him tied to the world of the living for years to come.

And when Xiao's time comes, he smiles as he sheds tears and looks up at the infinite blue sky.

When the light leaves his eyes, and his last breath is a sweet proclamation of his everlasting love for you, he knows.

He will see you in another life, in another world.

It took him three betrayals to finally understand: the world is an elaborated tapestry of lies.

It took him pain and humiliation, having his one purpose taken away, for him to understand: just because you want something, that does not mean you will get it. No matter what you do, if the world decides you won't have it, then you won't.

Receiving kindness from the dendro archon was and the blessing of an anemo vision were some of the things that set him on the right path to find his true wishes on his own, but most importantly, your existence in his life made something inside him turn and twist. You filled him with an achingly bittersweet yearning to love and be loved, you made him want to trust, made him willing to endure pain and betrayal if it meant he could spend eternity with you.

Eternity, the concept that his creator was (or still is, he wouldn't know) so obsessed with, obsessed with enough to discard him like worthless dross and abandon him to fend for himself with no instructions or expectations. Now, Wanderer felt as though he could understand her just a bit.

Or maybe a lot.

Eternity stretches things over a long time, but each moment within it becomes all the more fragile.

Nevertheless, when he had you, when you loved him, he finally understood why his mother was so desperate back then to attain eternity. He, too, when affronted with the harsh reality that you and your comforting warmth would not be around for long, desperately wished for a miracle to happen so he could stay forever with you. You living forever or him going with you once you left, he cared not, he only wanted you you you you and nothing else.

But, as he discovered, after long periods of anger and denial over painful feelings, acceptance is sure to come.

You are not like him in the slightest. Born human, with a heart of your own, knowing kindness and happiness from people around you, while his body was just a mere imitation of human flesh, an empty husk unfit for the only task he was created to perform. Yet, you still loved him as though he was not an easily replaceable abomination, but a human.

After you're gone, he cries the most he's ever cried. Rests his head on your chest that has long since stopped moving up and down with your breathing while his ears are met with silence when before he would listen to your comforting heartbeat, and he cries.

It will be long before the life of the Wanderer comes to an end- after all, he was created to endure an eternity functioning. Every dawn and every sunset, every passing breeze and station, he will remind the days you were together, and smile, as the empty space in his chest weeps silently, waiting, longing, hoping there exists a day in which he can meet you again.

For now, now that you're not with him anymore, he would simply keep walking, chasing the breeze that blows on a bright afternoon.

fallinfl0wers. 2022.

#melwritesgenshin #melodywritings #genshin impact headcanon #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #albedo x y/n #albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo angst #albedo fluff #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #venti angst #venti fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli angst #zhongli fluff #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n

[binsito]

service

pairing: kim seungmin x fem reader

synopsis: busy seungmin hires a cleaning lady to spiff up his home only to accidentally hire a topless maid ♡

word count: 2.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, oral sex (f & m receiving), usage of the word "mister" in a sexual setting, "good girl" is used once, slight body cumshot, slight power play ??

note - seungmin as a business man is very sexy to me.. i hope i articulated this story well bc imagining it in my brain was very 😵‍💫

seungmin was a very busy man.

his career often had him working long, stressful hours. his success came with the sacrifice of his social life and maybe a couple of metaphorical gray hairs due to the constant goals he needed to reach for his company.

he was proud of his work, no matter how tedious his job may be. sure, he barely had time to himself but his mother had always advised him to become a hardworking, professional man and of course he listened. at such a young age, he found himself quickly getting promoted and making enough to live comfortably, he couldn’t complain. 

he normally came home late, toeing his shoes off at the front door and sighing as he made his way to his room. tugging at his tie to fall back into his bed. his house virtually looked unlived in. it was a lovely place, marble flooring with high ceilings but the only purpose it served him was to sleep and get ready for work the next day, an unbreakable cycle. he knew he needed to take better care of his home, at least dust it off here and there, but with what time? he could barely use the bathroom for five seconds before work emails would pour in. he figured it was about time he found someone to tend to the house for him, do his laundry, maybe have some meals prepared for him. he had the means to pay for such a service so why not? having a cleaning lady wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

he needed someone fast so he scrolled online for services while he unwinded in bed. the quicker someone could show up to fix his house up, the better. 

he ended up finding an ad that piqued his interest, clicking on it to get more information. the rate they were charging was a bit high but he assumed it was probably because they included more in their cleaning packages. “fuck it.” he sighed out as he booked the soonest available date, at least his house wouldn’t keep suffering from his negligence. __ the next morning, he was getting ready for work as he got a confirmation text message. “morning, mister kim. i’ll be arriving at 10:30, we’ll keep in touch” you had messaged. he was pleased at how quickly his appointment got approved and he finished up so he could greet you when you arrived.

eventually his doorbell rang and he walked over to open it, smiling at you as he moved aside to let you in. 

“hello, mister kim” you smiled as you introduced yourself. you held your hand out for him to shake. he returned the smile and shook your hand firmly, he seemed like a gentleman and his house was lovely. 

he explained everything around the house in great detail and gave you a small tour. it was a beautiful house, very modern and sleek although you could tell he barely lived in it, it lacked the warmth of a typical well loved home. “feel free to make yourself comfortable.. i left a list on the kitchen counter of things i need you to do. thank you for coming so punctually, shoot me a text whenever.” and with that, he was gone. grabbing his briefcase as he hurried out the door to start his day. you looked over the list: sweep and mop, change his bedsheets, iron his suits and dust off his bookshelves. cute, you thought as you noticed he signed his name on the bottom right corner in elegant cursive along with the date.

you started going around the house, working diligently, humming as you carefully dusted off his bookshelves. he seemed interesting, lots of books about philosophy and music. it seemed he was well versed in piano, having lots of classical sheet music scattered about. 

your mind began to wonder.. he was handsome, was he single? he had to be seeing someone right? engaged at the very least? but the more you looked around, the more you noticed the absence of a womanly presence in his home. just one toothbrush, one towel, no makeup lingering around, no forgotten panties or heels, nothing.

you weren’t one to jump to conclusions but normally one’s bedroom held a lot of information about someone.

is that why he requested your services? you wondered..

nothing wrong with hiring a topless maid to clean your house, it was always fun for both parties. he’d be satisfied with a cute little maid doing house chores and you’d be enjoying the attention and compensation. besides, he was pretty attractive and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home that evening to see what would ensue from him seeing you with your tits out for him.

but the problem was.. seungmin had no fucking idea he had requested services from a topless maid. he was tired, half asleep and just really needed his house to be cleaned. maybe he should’ve checked thoroughly, maybe he should’ve read between the lines when the site stated that they offered “special services”.

stupid, stupid mistake. so when he comes home and unlocks the door, the last thing he expected was to see you semi nude.

his jaw almost hit the damn floor, eyes widening while you acted so nonchalant. you glanced over at him with a soft smile, washing some dishes while your pretty tits were on display for him, buds hardening from the cold air in his house. “welcome back home, mister kim” you smiled coyly “h-hi um..” his brain was short circuiting, he didn’t even know what to say or do (he would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly turned on to be greeted in such a way). “excuse me.. im going to set my things down in my office” he said, trying not to look down at your exposed chest as he tried to also hide his painful erection. he quickly walked off and checked the website again once he was alone in his office, laughing at how dumb his mistake was. if he had read carefully he would've noticed the implications of the website. “dammit seungmin.. you are quite the idiot..” he said to himself with a chuckle. however, it was a pleasant surprise even if it was unintentional on his part. he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a nice pair of tits. this was making him realize how badly he needed to take a vacation from work and go have some fun. maybe the lack of a relationship and intimacy was making him dizzy because he couldn’t help but think this was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.

so he let out a sigh and straightened himself out before walking back out. you had since finished the dishes and were leisurely wiping down his countertop. “everything alright, mister kim?” you asked as you leaned over the counter, head leaning against one of your hands he nodded his head and sat at one of the bar stools “no.. everything’s fine. were you alright while i was gone?”

“mhm.. but i was excited for you to get back.. wanted you to compliment me on my job well done. did i do good mister kim? the house looks nice and tidy doesn’t it?” you giggled softly “oh yes.. looks a lot better thank you. you did a perfect job, good girl” “ah.. would you like me to take your shoes off for you? i mopped and i don’t want you to mess up my hard work..” you pouted. before he could answer, you had made yourself over to him, getting on your knees beneath him and pulling off his shoes. you could feel his gaze on you, he was a little tense and you found it absolutely amusing. you knew he was trying hard to act calm but you could see right through his demeanor. “oh mister kim.. you’re so hardworking.. i can tell.. poor thing. all work and no play..” you cooed. “want me to help with that? i know you want to touch.. just tell me mister kim..” you stated blatantly, no need to beat the bush when you could tell from the tightness of his pants that he was turned on. “a-are you sure?..” his voice was weak, he thought he sounded absolutely pathetic. “oh yes mister kim.. i’m at your service remember? i wanna play too you know? i think i deserve it for doing such a good job.. been waiting for you to get home to me allll day.. i worked extra hard for my reward..” you looked up at him through your eyelashes with a devilish smile. having sex with a client was never off the table for you, especially if you found them hot. if the situation arose and you were both down, you took the opportunity. you liked being taken care of after making their house look spotless. and lucky for seungmin, if he wanted to go further than just a little topless cleaning, you were more than willing to indulge him, he was just your type. seungmin couldn’t even recall the last time he had sex.. he had been so swamped with work that he had since forgotten about such a thing. he was normally so uptight and frustrated with work, the occasional jerking off on the weekend wasn’t even doing it for him anymore. he shyly leaned forward and cupped one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze before pinching the bud, his big hands were able to cup a decent handful and he was pleased at how warm they felt in his hand. “how can i help you mister kim?.. oh please tell me.. i’m dying to get to work..” his hands were basically trembling at the sound of your sultry voice. he could barely form a sentence, face flushed with his mouth slightly agape. this was absolutely preposterous but he was brimming with lust and want. he nervously started to undo his belt, pushing his bangs back a bit to get a better look at what he was doing.

there was nothing sexier than a man in a suit, freshly off work, a bit disheveled and tired from the work load but ready to to pull his cock out.

once his cock was visible to you, you bit your lip in anticipation. he was long, his cock leaking and an angry red, you were sure you could take care of his problem very well.

the length was making your mouth water, the idea of him being able to reach so deep inside of you making your thighs press together. “oh mister kim.. your cock looks delicious.. may i have some?” 

mouth open and willing to take him, you were so ready to taste him, hear the noises he would make. normally the shy ones were the loudest ones in your experience and you were excited to see him let go.

“go ahead.. make yourself right at home..” he says, cock twitching as he watched you inch towards his head, sucking on the tip and smiling against it “so fucking yummy..” you whispered before taking more of him, closing your eyes when his cock hit the back of your throat.

you had to use a hand to stroke the bit that didn’t quite fit, gagging on his cock as you coated him in spit. drool trickling down his shaft and collecting on his balls as you reached down to give him a tight squeeze.

“s-shit.. i-i’ll cum if you do that..” he whined, eyes glued on everything you were doing to him.

and that only encouraged you to do it again, feeling his thighs clench as a grunt left his throat, pulling off just before he reached his high and giggling at him as he protested.

“don’t you wanna be inside instead?” you got up from your knees, bending yourself over the counter.

his eyes traced over the swell of your ass that was peeking from under the useless skirt. you were wearing a flimsy thong that would surely rip if he tugged on it just a little bit

“c’mon mister kim.. please.. i want your cock inside me..” canting your hips at him to entice him further but he was already planning on shoving his dick inside you.

he stood up behind you, lifting your skirt further to finally reveal your ass, thong irritatingly in the way so he picked it aside as he rubbed his cock against you. he thought he was dreaming, maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him because there was no way in hell this was happening, not when it felt this good.

he gripped your hips tightly with one hand as his guided his cock to your hole, it was so tight, sucking his tip right in as he bit his lip in restraint. you opened your legs further for him as he pressed another inch in.

“fuckk mister kim.. can you feel how wet i am? my pussy is dripping..” and he definitely could feel it. he could also feel how you purposely clenched around him, how soft your walls were, how inviting and warm your hole was. he couldn’t wait to have you full stretched along his cock.

once he bottomed out, he gripped your hair, pulling you into an arch as he fucked into you, tits bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips

his bangs hanging over his eyes, sticking to his forehead as he muttered incoherent curses.

“s-shit! you’re taking my cock so well..” he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of you

he didn’t know how long he would last, his balls tightening with every thrust. he was soon to be a goner, it just felt so fucking unreal, all this pent up stress about to blow deeply inside your pussy. you moved against him, meeting his thrusts as you reached down to touch your clit, the ridges of his cock pushing against you so perfectly you thought your knees would give out.

“i-i’m gonna cum oh my god.. s-shit shit!” 

one final pump and he was cumming, quickly pulling out to spill over your asscheeks. he was out of breath yet still rock hard.

you got on top of the counter on all fours invitingly, which seungmin gladly accepted the offer. spreading you open as he buried his face deep in your cunt, lapping hungrily as you moaned. wet noises filling his normally quiet home. 

his tongue didn't leave a single crevice untouched, flattening and sucking harshly as your toes curled from the pleasure. he pressed his tongue in while his fingers came up to rub your clit. his nimble fingers coaxing an orgasm from you, one that made a mantra of "mister kim's" spill from your lips.

your essence all over his face as he licked his lips, sighing in ecstasy, giving you a light slap on the ass as he pulled your skirt back down

both of you in a haze yet still craving more. you knew this definitely wasn't going to be the last time seungmin would request services from you.

which was absolutely right.

seungmin quickly booked you again for the following week after you had left, same day and time. you were bubbling with anticipation for the next time you’d come over.

you fucking loved your job.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#binsito #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader smut #kim seungmin #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin stray kids #seungmin skz #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin stray kids #seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader smut #binsito : seungmin

[dyns33]

Obvious

Most of the time I see him as the cool silly big bro, but I love Deadpool, so here's a long Deadpool x female reader.

Normally nothing destined Y/N to meet Wade Wilson.

A normal life, without enemies, without superpowers, without contracts on her head. She didn't fight, respected the law (at least for the most serious and important things) and she considered herself to be a good person.

The first time she had passed Saint Agnes Orphanage, she hadn't really paid it much attention. The second time, she found it a little strange that an orphanage was in this part of the city, which was not really made for children.

Then one evening, when she had had a bad day, she realized that it was a bar and she decided to go in for a drink.

Since she thought an orphanage was strange in that place, she might have thought it was odd for a bar to have such a name. She could also have been scared when she saw the other customers, who all turned towards her, indicating that she might not be welcome.

But Y/N was tired, and she just wanted a drink before going home, so she smiled politely as she sat down at the counter.

The waiter frowned, but he agreed to serve her with a shrug, muttering that as long as she was an adult, it wasn't his problem.

A tall, bald, tattooed guy then approached her, putting a hand on her arm without worrying about her private space, asking her if she wanted to follow him home.

"… No thanks."

“Come on, don’t be a slut.”

"Please."

“Come with me, you stupid bitch.”

"Now, that's really not very nice. The lady said no, a gentleman should know it's time to leave. But no Hector, not only are you insisting, but you're being rude."

"Fuck you, Wade, don't get involved in this !"

The waiter continued to mumble about cleaning, while this Wade guy smashed Hector's head against the counter. A tooth even flew close to Y/N’s face.

That might have been enough to scare her completely. In addition to the surge of violence that was happening right next to her, there was the red suit, the katanas and other guns, which could make you want to flee as quickly as possible.

But when he finished kicking Hector's ass, Wade turned to her, and despite the mask, it was obvious that he was smiling, extending a hand towards her.

"Miss, my apologies for that boor. He knows nothing of good manners."

"… Thank you."

"You're very welcome, lovely angel ! Wade Wilson, Deadpool, Merc with a mouth, at your service ! Oh, he spilled your drink… Bad Hector ! Or was it me ? Maybe it was me. Weasel, the same for the little lady, on my note !”

“You already owe me a fortune.”

“I will kill whoever you want for free !”

“I thought you didn’t kill anymore.”

"Ah yes… I'll suck you for free !"

“Here you go, two drinks, just shup up Wade.”

In the end, Wade was a bit special, but not evil. He stayed with her, partly because he loved having someone to talk to, but also to make sure no one else was going to bother her again.

And he talked a lot. Everything he said didn't always make sense, he even seemed to be talking to himself sometimes, but he was funny. It seemed to please him that Y/N laughed at his jokes. Behind the counter, Weasel was still muttering that she was doing something silly.

Among the long tirade he delivered that evening, she understood that Wade had not had an easy life. That he had done some things that could make him a criminal, but he had been trying to improve for some time.

"Colossus already wanted me to become an X-men but it wasn't for me. Wait, there are X-men in this universe ? I do not know anymore. Anyway, there's Spidey and Devy. No, he's right, this nickname isn't great, Devil. Like Daredevil. They want us to be Team Red, but only if I stop unliving people. It's not fair because they're friends with Frank, and Frank keeps unliving people, but he lost his wife and his kids, so I guess he has more sympathy points than me."

"I don't understand everything, but I guess Spidey is Spiderman ?"

"Yes ! He's super cool ! And his ass ! People confuse us sometimes, it annoys me, but it's a bit of a compliment. He's my role model."

Like a true superhero, Deadpool insisted on taking her home. He was terribly honest, saying that he could leave her a few blocks away, but that was useless, because as a former mercenary, he was very good at stalking people and he could find her address without difficulty, even if he only had her name.

"Which I wouldn't do ! Normally. I might want to see you again, and ask Weasel to find your number, but I know myself, I'll put it in my phone, and I'll hesitate for weeks, then I'll send a lousy message, you'll be scared, you'll block me, I'll be ashamed and I'll shoot myself in the head because I'm a moron."

“I can give you my number.”

"And I… Huh ? Huh ?! For real ?!" exclaimed Wade, jumping like a child on Christmas Day.

Wade called her right away, specifying that it was not to verify that she was giving him a false number but a little. Despite the mask, his face showed surprise when he saw that she hadn't lied.

"I should put a bullet in my head to make sure I'm not dreaming."

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“Baby girl, we only just met, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

When Deadpool talked about shooting himself, he meant it literally. It often happened that he died, either because of an enemy, an accident, or by his own hand. But he always came back. A gift like a curse.

They became friends. It was obvious, and quite sad, that Wade didn't have many friends.

Most people around him couldn't stand him or were afraid of him. It was true that he could be quite unpredictable, especially when he got lost in his discussions with the boxes, or an imaginary audience. But he was never mean.

Weasel was more of a collaborator, Al was forced to accommodate him, and the other heroes, unable to get rid of him, tried to make him a nice guy.

And he was really nice. Crazy but adorable, funny and wanting to do well.

Very quickly, Y/N started to have a crush, and even more. Even after seeing him without a mask. He never took it off completely to eat, repeating that he didn't want her to lose her appetite or feel like throwing up.

But after landing in a trash can after a fight, and forgetting that he had invited her to watch Princess Bride, Y/N had seen him. Yes, his scars were a bit impressive, but they weren't that bad.

With an embarrassed smile, he waved his hand while remaining frozen near the entrance.

"… I can move if you want to run away. I won't follow you. I may look like Frankenstein's monster, but I only pursue young girls who ask me to. Or who deserve it. Because criminals have no gender, I don't discriminate."

“I brought popcorn.” was her only reaction.

"... Oh. Sweet ? Salty ? Caramel ? Al must have beer somewhere, hidden with the cocaine."

After that, he was a little less afraid to show his face, even though it was obvious he wasn't comfortable. It wasn't easy to reassure him, repeating that she didn't care about his appearance.

Y/N didn’t remember how they ended up having this conversation. The only thing she knew was that she was pressed against him, laughing, when she had innocently said it would be fun if they went out together.

This made Wade laugh, but a very serious laugh, leaving no chance and hitting where it hurt.

"You and me ? Ah ! No chance."

"Why ?"

"It's obvious."

A simple little sentence could sometimes do a lot of damage. Too busy making fun of the characters on the screen, Wade didn't see Y/N's look of sadness, just as he didn't feel her body stiffen.

Still, she should have expected this response. Of course it was obvious that they had nothing to do together. Deadpool was a super hero (in training), he was tall, muscular, funny, rich.

She had seen photos of his deceased ex, Vanessa. She had observed him flirting with beautiful women and men before. It was already fortunate that she was only friends with him.

So Y/N swallowed her pride, accepting the obvious, and not talking about the subject again.

But it was hard, because the more time passed, the stronger the feelings became.

It was even harder when Wade entered his depressive phases. He kept putting himself down, insulting himself and accepting insults from the boxes in his head. It took a lot of patience and perseverance to get him to put down his gun.

"Anyway, I'll come back later. Bad luck for the world. People would be happier if I wasn't here anymore. Maybe they'll miss me a little, for a few minutes."

“I would miss you, Wade.”

"Yeah… You say that because you're adorable, baby girl. But you'd be better off without me too. I'm a real drag."

“You saved me the first time we met.”

"And since then you think you owe me a debt. You know, every time we're in the street, the others look at me and they're afraid. If I wasn't there, you could be with them. You could have lots of friends.”

"I don't want lots of friends, Wade." Y/N sighed, taking him into her arms. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Oh, sweetie pie, me too !”

It was rarer for them to find themselves in the opposite situation. Not because Deadpool wasn't capable of empathy, but because she didn't like talking about her problems, preferring to keep everything to herself and cry out of sight.

Unfortunately, she had made the decision to become friends with a former mercenary who loved to jump from roof to roof, only to come visit without warning by tapping on the window.

Y/N had no time to hide her tears, holding back a sob as her eyes met those of Wade, who had stopped mid-movement, fist raised against his window.

He didn't hesitate before entering, terribly serious.

"Who ? Who did this ?"

“Wade…”

"Who made my baby girl cry ? I want a name. Spidey and Dev will understand. Yellow wants decapitation, White wants emasculation. Tell me who."

"It's really not necessary. It's not important."

“It’s important if you cry.” Deadpool growled as he looked around the apartment for clues.

Once he had an idea in his head, it was almost impossible to divert his attention. If it wasn't so important, it was possible with food or talking about Spiderman's butt. But this time he considered it very important.

Tired, Y/N thought that all she had to do was say that it was just a ridiculous heartbreak for him to calm down. He had no reason to kill someone just because they didn't love her back.

This actually seemed to calm him down a bit, as he patted his cheeks with his hands in a dramatic gesture.

"What ?! Someone doesn't love you ?! Someone doesn't like my sweet little angel ? Are they crazy or stupid. You deserve the best !"

"Actually… He's the one who's too good for me."

"Bullshit ! The important thing is love ! If a woman can marry a space duck, then everyone can be together, as long as it's legal and consensual !"

"… What ? No, wait, it doesn't matter. Wade, please forget it."

"A name. Let me prove to you that this fool doesn't deserve you, and not the other way around !"

"No."

"A name !"

"You ! It's you !"

For the first time since they met, Wade was silent for more than a minute, staring at her like he wasn't sure she was real. He often had hallucinations, so this happened to him.

Then he muttered incomprehensible things, probably speaking with his boxes to check that he had heard what she had just said.

"… Me ? As in, me ?"

“I know what you’re going to say.” Y/N sighed, wanting to disappear. "You've already said it, it's obvious that we're not meant to be together. You're charismatic, and strong, and funny, with powers. You save people, you have an extraordinary life, while I… I am me."

"… Baby girl. Do you have a fever ? Did you lose a bet ? Because… You saw me without a mask. You know I'm crazy and dangerous. There are several bounties on my head, I've unlived more people than the population of New York, and my favorite movie is Zoolander 2. When I said it was obvious… I meant that you were too good for me."

There had been a misunderstanding, each being convinced that the other could never want the other, because they were too different. But even though he was special, with skin problems and an inability to concentrate for more than ten minutes, Wade was much better than a space duck.

However, while she was sure of what she wanted, he hadn't clearly said what he expected next.

"I mean, if you just want to be friends, I'll understand."

"You can't tease me like that and then break my heart. Don't play with me, woman !"

“Wade…” Y/N sneered, as he gesticulated like a degenerate, declaiming his great love for her and her smile, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Taking advantage of his inattention, she approached him, until he froze when he felt her hands on his mask.

With a look, she asked him if she could take it off, and as he didn't move to stop her, she took it off first up to his nose, before hesitating.

Y/N didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want him to think that she didn’t want to see him if she didn’t go further. So she took out the whole mask, she observed Wade, smiling before kissing him.

"… Don't take what comes next as a bad thing." he whispered as their lips parted.

"What ?"

"I'm going to have a heart attack…"

As always, Y/N thought he was joking at first, until he collapsed in front of her, looking delighted even though his heart had stopped beating. Fortunately she was used to seeing him die, even if it was still a little traumatic.

It took almost an hour for him to wake up. Y/N had time to take a shower and make herself some tea, sitting on the couch to wait.

"Shit !" he shouted as he opened his eyes, looking around the apartment before looking at her. “Did we kiss ?”

“Yes and you died.”

"It's weird. Normally you go to heaven after you die, not before. But I probably don't have enough superhero points for heaven yet, so the other option is that I became totally crazy."

“Wade…”

"I know, White and Yellow would have told me. They're already saying that all the time, but they would have insisted, especially for me to escape from the asylum. It's no fun fighting with fake people and hippos. Was I dead long ?"

“No, a little over half an hour.”

"And you stayed with me, it's so cute. Nurse Y/N. No, Doctor Y/N, and I'll be Nurse Wilson. Oh, Doctor Y/N, I made a mistake in the dosage of a patient, I'm a bad nurse, punish me."

"… Let's see Nurse Wilson, we're in the middle of an intervention, calm down."

"Uh oh ! You're playing along !" Wade exclaimed, pouting from the ground. "I didn't expect that ! Wait, I need a blonde wig, and a white dress. You'll see, I look super sexy in a dress. Wait, we do this now or it's quick and we should have a date first ?'

“I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

"I see the genre, like in novellas. Doctor Y/N takes me to the restaurant to talk about my future promotion, but in fact, you are going to admit to me that I am pregnant with you, before I even enter your bed !"

“As long as you’re in my bed before the hundredth episode.”

“UH !”

The small, high-pitched cry of pleasure preceded a second cardiac arrest, Deadpool's mind imagining Y/N and him in a bed, with a stetoscope.

When she asked him if he was going to have a heart attack every time, he told her that he would probably die for good the day he saw her naked, or that they made love for the first time.

But Wade was a gentleman, he ate lots of vegetables, exercised, and begged Daredevil to teach him meditation techniques.

So he had the courtesy of having the next heart attack only after they were finished, and in the toilet. And every time after that they were together, Wade would go out of his way to just get a nosebleed.

Especially on Weasel's counter, telling him everything they had done or almost everything, which annoyed the poor waiter a lot, even if he knew that it would happened from the start, the moment he saw Deadpool with Y/N.

#deadpool #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool imagine #wade wilson fanfiction #wade wilson imagine

[eggluverz]

danheng college roommate au 🥹

— HOT AND COLD

In which Dan Heng runs hot and blasts the air conditioner to keep cool, and you feel like you’re living in the arctic.

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader

GENRE. modern au, roommate au

WORD COUNT. 1238

NOTE. and they were roommates :> ty for the idea anon!! it was vague enough so i kinda just ran with it LOL dan heng running the ac in this asian household? wild xD anyway pls enjoy!!

You had gone through this school year in relative peace with your roommate.

When the school year started, you were unable to secure on-campus housing in time and thankfully your friends found a social media thread of other college students living off-campus who needed someone to share an apartment with. Dan Heng immediately stood out of the crowd, solely for how handsome he looked in profile picture alone. Who needed other sources of credibility when they were pretty?

For most of the year, the two of you lived pretty separate lives. When you were home, you were usually in your room unless you wanted to cook. When Dan Heng was home, it was the same. And add the fact that he only exited his room during ungodly hours of the night, it was a recipe for never really bumping into each other.

It made you a little sad, naturally. You wanted to be close with your roommate and have movie nights and game nights, but he set the tone for wanting to live together, yet separate, and you found it simpler to adhere to his wishes.

But as the weather warmed up, as did your serendipitous contact with Dan Heng. For starters, right as winter came to an end and spring only remotely gave its warm greeting, you would see Dan Heng head to the living room and turn on the air conditioner while you were eating on the kitchen island.

As it grew hotter out, Dan Heng only lowered the thermostat more and more. Causing you to freeze more and more.

Now, you enjoyed living in a nice and temperate room like most people, but with how your roommate set the thermostat, your apartment was well below room temperature! Below freezing if you wanted to be dramatic. It was a little ridiculous how cold it was, in your humble opinion. Did he want to live in the snow?

One particular cold night, you came out to boil yourself some hot water for your hot chocolate and marshmallows. It may have been burning hot out, but inside was a winter wonderland, so you figured you may as well get in the mood. You had fuzzy pajama pants on, along with a longsleeve shirt and a scarf wrapped around your neck and a beanie on your head.

Just as you were about to go back to your room and wrap yourself under a million fluffy blankets, Dan Heng emerged from his room to head to the thermostat.

He paused as you walked by him, eyes widening at the sight. Dan Heng himself wore nothing but a pair of gray sweats and a black shirt. He stared at you for a few moments.

“Are you feeling ill?” he asked, one of the first words you’ve heard him say this whole month.

You shook yourself. “No! I’m feeling perfectly fine,” you said, voice muffled from the scarf that half-covered your mouth.

He blinked. “But… your outfit.”

“I’m just a little chilly, is all.”

He walked over to you with his arm outstretched. He brought his hand close to you and asked, “May I?”

You nodded.

Dan Heng lifted your beanie slightly and placed the back of his palm on your forehead. It was instantly warm to the touch and you wanted to place it right on your cold cheek to heat it up. He stayed in that position for a while, a look of deep thought on his face. “Hmm… Your temperature doesn’t seem to be of concern. It does seem safe to assume you’re not sick.”

“Yeah! I’m feeling fine. Just a bit cold, like I said.”

Dan Heng looked between his bare arms and your fully covered ones. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You looked at him, confused.

He elaborated, “I didn’t realize I was making the apartment unliveable for you.”

“No, no! I wouldn’t say unliveable. I’m cold, yes, but it’s nothing some layers can’t fix.” Besides, the two of you were lucky enough to live in an apartment that covered utilities for you. He could run the AC and heater on all day and all night if he truly wished.

Dan Heng shook his head. “I should’ve been more attentive to the needs of the other occupants. I’ll keep the temperature higher for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you teased, noting the look of intense worry on his face. You took a sip of your hot chocolate and smiled at him. “But thank you.”

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Dan Heng was nothing but determined, it seemed.

You could tell the next day because instead of the igloo your apartment once was, it now became a sauna.

As you walked into the building after a nice walk outside in the hot sun, you were looking forward to the cool air greeting you. However, what you got was a blast of heated air blowing on your face.

You instantly fanned yourself with your hand as you called, “Dan Heng?”

You didn’t have to look very far because as you walked into the living room, you noticed him shirtless and slightly glistening, a book in one hand an a popsicle in another.

He straightened up as he heard you approach. “Welcome home,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you said with a sheepish wave, trying to keep your eyes off his well-defined chest muscles.

“Is the temperature more to your liking?”

You stared at him, your body and face growing warmer as the hot air continued to blow around you. For a moment, you considered agreeing with him, if only to commend his efforts. You noticed he was putting up with being comfortable if it would have made you more comfortable. However, you felt pretty miserable and you figured you would rather freeze than have the both of you melt inside your apartment.

“Not exactly,” you said, feeling a bead of sweat forming on your temple. “It’s hotter in here and outside, Dan Heng!”

His cheeks that were flushed pink from the heat turned even redder. “Perhaps I overestimated how warm you liked your living area.”

“I think you did!” You couldn’t stop the amused laughter from coming out of your mouth. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think living in a sauna is fun for either of us.”

He nodded in agreement. A drop of his popsicle melted and slowly made its way towards his hand. He briefly licked it before it could make a mess.

“I’m going to turn the air conditioner back on,” you said in amusement. “Maybe set it to a nice, room temperature.”

“I agree that would be for the best.”

You walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the temperature accordingly. You felt your body warming with each step. There was no way you wanted to stay in your apartment while it was still this hot.

“It’s going to take a while for our apartment to cool down,” you laughed. “Do you want to go out and get some ice cream while we wait? Maybe go to the beach?”

Dan Heng considered it for a moment, finishing up the small remainder of his popsicle. “I’d like that. We haven’t had much time to bond as roommates. Maybe this would be a good time.”

You nodded. “Something is telling me I’d really enjoy getting to know you more.”

He smiled. “I feel the same.”

“Let’s go have a beach day, roomie!”

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr #hsr fluff #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #hsr imagines #hsr fanfiction

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 5.05

Your eyes sting as more tears fall from them. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, then pull your knees up to your chest. You let out a shaky breath. Three weeks had passed since Beth died in Atlanta, and since then the group had tragically lost another member, Tyreese. He died when part of the group split off to see if Noah’s hometown of Shirewilt was liveable, and now your group was heading in the direction of DC.

The town was unlivable and full of nothing but rotten corpses.

Most of the group of survivors you were part of were sitting in the middle of the road, but a few of you had gone off to try and search for water and food in the woods. Since your group had hardly any left, everyone was becoming dangerously dehydrated. The group's mood was at an all-time low, and you had barely spoken in three weeks, only when necessary.

You jump, feeling a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Daryl says. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something.”

If you weren’t still in so much pain from grieving, you would have found the humor in Daryl offering you a handful of worms as a meal. A few years ago, you would have run away screaming if a bug even touched your skin, and now you were getting ready to eat the slimy insects without a second thought. You let him place a few worms in your hand. “Thanks.”

“Beth, never shut up about you.”

You say nothing, and you continue to eat in silence.

—

When you returned to meet up with the others along with Daryl, you found out that someone had left bottles of water further up the road with a note saying ‘from a friend’ but nobody drank out of the bottles in case they were poisoned.

You scrunch your nose up at the smell of burning food. Four hungry dogs had run out from the tree line and onto the road, but before they could attack or run away, Sasha shot all of them, which resulted in the animals being skinned and cooked as a meal. Everyone ate aside from you and Noah.

Noah seemed to be too consumed by guilt to eat, and the thought of eating your favorite animal turned your stomach.

You sit the furthest away from the group by yourself until Carl sits down beside you on a dry patch of grass. He nudges your knee with his elbow. “Hey, I got something for you.”

You look at him through tired eyes and say, “Yeah?”

Carl pulls two bracelets made of yarn out of his pocket; they were covered in dirt, but you could still make out the bracelets were a mixture of blue and purple. “I found these while looking for water in abandoned cars a few days ago; I was just waiting for the best time to give it to you. I remember you saying, you used to make friendship bracelets with your mom for the church fundraiser.”

Your eyes become glossy at the memory of sitting on your bedroom floor hours after your bedtime, making them with brightly colored threads and sparkly beads. You hold the wrist out, and Carl puts the bracelet on before tying the ends into tight knots. “They are really pretty,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

Once yours is securely on, Carl holds up his wrist for you to do the same. “No matter where we end up or how alone we feel, we can just look at these and remember that we will always have someone who has our back.”

For the first time in weeks, you smile.

—

Noticing Daryl going off on his own again, you get to your feet and follow him into the woods, being careful not to step on any of the skeletons on the forest floor. Suddenly he stops walking and says, “Not now, kid, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know.”

Beth’s death hadn’t just taken a toll on you and Maggie; everyone else in the group who knew her felt her death too, just in different ways. You walk up behind Daryl and wrap your arms around his waist. At first, you think he’s going to shove you off, but he places his hands on top of yours. Daryl was tough, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fragile like the rest of you.

“When we... after the prison... I’m glad Beth was with you.”

Despite his best efforts to hold it together, a heartbroken sob passes his lips.

You stay like that until you feel the first drop of rain hitting your skin. You let go of Daryl and ran back to the highway. Empty bottles were being placed down to collect the rainwater.

A sense of relief hit you; everyone aside from Maggie and Sasha looked happy. You smile watching as Carl takes off his hat and uses it to shield Judith from the rain; she was crying because her clothes had gotten soaked.

Hearing a loud crackle in the sky, you look up and notice the oncoming storm. “Oh shit.”

Daryl points back the way and says, “I saw a barn; let’s go.”

—

Once the barn was cleared by Rick, Michonne, and Maggie, they gave the rest of you the go-ahead to go in. It didn’t take long for a small to be made and any supplies sought out.

“Hey!” Maggie comes over to you, tucking stands of damp hair behind your ear. “It’s been tough, but we’ve made it this far.”

“I know.”

She kisses the crown of your bed and says, “Try and get some sleep.”

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep. You and Carl chose to sleep on top of some hay, with Judith safely nestled between you. Most of the adults sit around the fire till late into the night until they fall asleep one by one.

Feeling a chill If you sit upright, it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Everyone else was asleep aside from Judith, who was wiggling on her back. You make sure she’s tucked up close enough to her brother that she won’t roll away and get hurt.

You approach the barn doors held together by a metal chain. You weren’t surprised it was cold with the rain still lashing down. You step closer to the doors to look out and see what damage the heavy rainfall caused, and between the flashes of lighting, you see walkers coming your way.

Stumbling back, you struggled to form a sentence but managed to scream one word, “Rick!”

When the barn door starts to move, you press yourself against it. Seconds later, Daryl is beside you, then Maggie, then Rick. Soon everyone was pushing their full body weight against the doors, waiting for the storm to pass.

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes/reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #teen spirit #carl grimes fanfic #carl grimes fanfiction #Carl Grimes/you #Carl Grimes x you #carl grimes #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fandom #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #teen spirit 5.05

[thegirlsread]

just bought blueberries by ellena savage because I want to read more essay collections and the index looks so promising. I’m so excited!

#like allen ginsberg. friendship between women. the literature of sadness. notes to unlived time #i can’t wait to finish on the road so i can finally start this #blueberries #ellena savage #essay collection

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

#q&a. #birdsong. #wishing u gentle ease; the death of a loved one is near inexplicable to put into words and i hope you take care of yourself gently <3 #i hope this will make u laugh: when i was a tiny child in middle school there were times i would go outside in my tiny suburban cul de sac- #in the rain and sing along to my lil ipod nano and i only remember doing this to drops of jupiter. can you imagine going out to get the mai #after a long day of work and you just hear this kid singing train in the streets. in the RAIN.... it makes me laugh like i really. #i really thought i was so cool and deep and emotional ghjkd but i find it v funny that i only remember it w/ that one train track. #and saturn just. it's my fav s.a.l. song for a reason. that slow violin opening? the piano coming in gentle and easy? #it feels like light. like hope. like something new - a dawn after the long dark. that beautiful things can begin again even where #it hurts. and there is nothing more human than a sentiment like that. #how rare and beautiful it is to truly exist. what it is to be alive and get to be here and live with other people. with those we love. #i think your grandfather was so lucky to be able to know you. to have you in his life for the time you had together. #i'm no spiritual person; but i like to believe when you're thinking about him? he's thinking about you too. #the second law of thermodynamics (physics nerd mode) is that no energy has ever been created/destroyed since the beginning of the universe. #so it has to go somewhere - it's that carl sagan quote of 'we're all made of stardust'. because we are. we used to be stars; planets; etc. #i think it's why i think of these space songs - because they're a part of everything; once more; when they go. us and everything else.

[system-to-the-madness]

Gravity - Rober Capa x Reader

Pairing: Rober Capa x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) AU: EveryoneLives!AU Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 399 Summary: Capa finally gets to hold you in his arms A/N: Be warned. This is less a fic than… a flow of thoughts really. It started out with the idea that the gravity on the Icarus is probably slightly different from Earth’s, and grew from there.

Masterlist

Robert Capa, who knows he's in trouble when halfway to the sun he realises he's fallen in love with you, his crewmate. He's fairly certain you're flirting with him, a little at least, but he never dares to act on his feelings. You're stuck on very limited space after all and if things go south between the two of you (as south as things can go in open space without poles) the whole crew would suffer from the tension. So he sits it out, restricts himself to the little touches when you hand each other things, and relishes in the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck when you lean over his shoulder to see what he's working on.

But he can't help but imagine what it would feel like to fall asleep besides you. He imagines the way your breathing pattern would disturb the monotone humming of the electronics around him, would breathe life into the mechanical darkness surrounding him. He imagines how it would feel when you were to let him rest his head on your chest, listening to the small sounds of you living body under his. The sound of your heart and breath, the little noises your stomach makes. He imagines feeling the warmth of your skin bleeding through the synthetic fibres of your uniform pyjamas. And he imagines what if would feel like if the arm he wishes he could drape over your waist were being pulled down not by artificial but by the natural gravity of earth, a nice, familiar 9.81m/s^2.

He never acts on these daydreams, never mentions them to anyone, doesn't even note them down in the dairy he's obligated to keep. In fact, he's almost a little ashamed for these thoughts, these desires. The desire to feel another living human being close while drifting through open, unliving space, to wrap someone - you - in his arms. So, he keeps pretending everything is normal, even when his breath catches in his throat whenever he sees you, even when his heartrate increases whenever he thinks of you.

-

When the payload is set of, and the Icarus on its way back to earth, when the realisation sets in that you made it, you're still alive and on your way home, he hugs you tightly. For the first time, he allows himself to hold you longer than would be appropriate, and he buries his face in your neck, shuddering at how you keep your hands wrapped in his shirt. That night you knock on the door to his bedroom and ask if he can hold you. Against better judgement, he agrees, lets you slip into bed with him, and there you lay in his arms, innocently enough. It's not what he imagined it to be like. But it's definitely nice and warm. A lot warmer than his dark room would be otherwise. He doesn't sleep that night, stays up instead, listening to the even breaths you take, feeling the little twitches when you dream. But his arm is around your waist, not as heavy as it would be on earth, but it's enough for now.

It's not until 16 months later, right before you're supposed to climb into the capsule that brings you from the earth's orbit down to the ground, that you suddenly turn to him. In the past months, you slept almost every night in his narrow bed together with him, and in the nights that you didn’t, he slept in your bed besides you. It was never more than that, holding each other, talking in hushed voices, staring at each other with only a few inches separating your faces. You talked about earth, about what you wanted to do when you're back down there. You wanted to see flowers again, he wanted to eat ramen again, you wanted to go on long walks through green forests, he wanted to hold you every night. The last confession slipped over his lips only in the last night on the Icarus, as if it were his last chance to tell you. You didn’t say anything in return, only smiled at him and nodded.

So, when you turn to him right before you are supposed to climb into the capsule, he isn't sure what he is supposed to expect. A rejection perhaps? A friendly "Thanks for the cuddles, but that's it"? Instead, you lean forward, right into his face. "Kiss me?" It's a question, but not really. It's a demand. And not one he would ever consider refusing. He seals his lips to yours, short but urgently. And then you climb into the capsule, followed by him, sit through being shot through the earth's atmosphere, and you're reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. That action makes his heart beat faster than the thought of the quickly approaching ground. The first time you see the sun again, without being separated from it by thick layers of glass, Capa thinks his heart is melting in his chest. He didn't think it would be possible to see sunlight like this again, all warm and safe and bright. And especially not while holding your hand in his.

What follows your arrival on earth are a quick meeting with your families, but Capa can only focus on his sister for so long before his eyes are being drawn back to you. Then there are debriefings, not one, not two, but three, all on the same day. When all he really wants to do is lay down, pull you down next to him, and feel his arm being pulled against your body by the earth’s gravity. But instead, he has to sit in these meetings, knowing that tomorrow there will be more of those. He literally just returned from space, saving the earth. Can't they give him a break? He catches your eyes, and you smile amused as if you had read his thoughts and want to say "just accept your fate, it will be over eventually."

But the meetings are being followed up by a dinner with some politicians, and he swears he hears someone comment on his long hair and your unplucked eyebrows and he almost blows up. But then there's your hand on his leg, squeezing his knee gently under the table, and he takes a deep breath of air, air that is not filtered through a survival-support system, and he swallows down his anger.

It all pays off, as it turns out. The meetings, the dinner, the following interview. All of it on the same day that you arrived back from space. It pays off when he finally gets to step foot into his own hotel room, gets to take a proper shower with warm water and shampoo and soap as much as he likes. It pays of when he just slips into the soft cotton pyjama and there's a knock on his door and when he opens it, it's you, standing in front of him, dressed in the same white, cotton pyjama. It pays off, when you wrap your arms around his neck, and whisper "yes" when he asks to kiss you. It pays off, when he pulls you towards his bed, and drops down on it, pulling you next to him. It all pays off, when you cover the two of you with the fluffy blanket, nothing like the thin fleece blankets aboard the Icarus. And when your head hits the pillow, you let him rest his head on your chest, his arms around your waist. He can hear your heartbeat and your even breaths, even the little sounds your stomach makes as it works quietly. You smell of the same hotel issued soap and shampoo that he also used, but somehow you small warmer than him, he thinks. He can't help the sigh on his lips, when you run your fingers through his hair, carding through the long, dark strands. His head is heavy on your chest. Your hand is heavy on his head. His arms are heavy on your waist. This was what he imagined. The in unrelenting force of the earth's gravity, pulling the two of you together, on the planet you traveled millions of miles for to save. And the irrational part of him, the hopelessly romantic part of him, can't help but think that he travelled all this way just to be with you.

#mad sunshine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #robert capa x reader #robert capa x you #robert capa x yn #robert capa x y/n

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 7- I Wish This Could Last Forever

Fictober Prompts/Masterlist

Patreon

Ouchies... I got in my feelings

WC- 800

Warnings- mention of death/dying, vampires, blood etc

----

Harry watched the human sleeping in his arms, his chest feeling like it could disintegrate any moment. 

If his heart could still beat, he would be worried about it breaking. 

He knew he had to leave someday. He knew that this warm bundle of sweet, soft human would begin to age and question why he didn’t. The longer they spent together, the easier to spot his quirks. The closer they got, the more she would notice, the more that she would begin to bond to him. The sips he took from her were enough to sustain him, but for how long? How long could he go without a proper feed?

He knew his intentions were selfish. He had never had a problem being a selfish creature for all two hundred and forty years that his feet had been walking around the earth, and yet.. A silly, simply little human had tilted his world on its axis. Her soft breathing puffing against his neck making him bound to the moment, her fists curled around his shirt as her leg was tangled in his own. Trusting him, this monster of a creature, with her safety. Her body. Her blood. Something in her told her to go against instinct, if she even had any, and hand herself over to the very thing she should be running away from. 

The mere thought of her running away from him in terror ripped him apart. 

He had been biding his time for a while, and knew that he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye. His own throat welled up in a lump at the idea of her hating him for all her life once he left her, leaving a note explaining that their time had been fun but he had to move on or move for a business trip. He’d have to make her hate him, because this tenacious little human would scour the earth to find him. 

Her fiery ways despite her soft demeanor always brought a smile to his face. When she was determined to have something, to see something, she would do it. Sometimes she unknowingly put herself in danger and he had to wonder how she had managed to get on without him before- and it twinged his stomach. How would she get on without him?

His thoughts always turned to her deserving better. If she wanted children, the picket fence, the dogs, the familial dream that everyone spoke about. He could never provide that. The most he could do was be a decent partner, at least trying his very best now despite their undefined relationship. It was clear there was love between them.

Just how much, though, Harry kept under wraps. 

How could he let her know that he counted her breaths when she slept? How he hurt every time he thought about having to move from this place and exist without her? How she had become such a staple in his daily life, that he couldn’t go to the store without thinking about what she would like or scoff at. She had somehow, some way, engrained herself in his very being without his permission. Oddly enough? He felt okay with it. 

He’s had entanglements with humans before. He drank from them when they were in the midst of orgasm, taking what he could without harming, and moved on before the sun rose to try and find someone else. Being a creature like him, sex and blood were the mainstays of the life he was unliving. Y/N had been a one nighter that he couldn’t drag himself away from. They’d met unconventionally, something off his normal routine and had taken him off guard. Somehow it had turned into this. 

Cradling her warm body to his own, the thick blankets on his bed covering them up as he ran his fingers over her back. The city noises and her breathing were a background for the steady heartbeat, only wobbling when he shifted and she clung back to him. His own personal slice of heaven, having her seek him out when he was living in a monotonous hell. Every day had been so black and white before his little human had shattered the glass and threw color on every surface. 

She would always be his favorite memory, his biggest love, and his hardest regret. 

“I wish this could last forever.” His voice was too quiet even for her to hear, kissing over the top of her head a few times. “I would keep you for longer than that.”

#jarofstyles fictober 2023 #jarofstyles fictober #harry styles vampire #vampire!harry #vampire harry styles #vampire harry #vampirry #angst #harry styles angst #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles au #Harry styles supernatural #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #Harry styles fictober

[gretavanfleetposts]

Fire in the Water: Chapter Ten - Part One

Summary: You had thought dating a vampire would be the most complicated thing you'd ever done. But as it turns out, becoming one is even more complicated. The boys are determined to make your transformation as smooth as possible while each fighting to maintain the relationships they once had and those they now lust for. Author's Note: As always, I'd like to thank the lovely @gretasmokerising and @earthlysorrows for everything Content Warnings: swearing, talk of the afterlife, death, talk of dead souls, dead people, skeletons (18+ minors do not interact) Word Count: 5k

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Rebecca had been hard to find.

Jake had searched for her for months alongside his twin, turning up empty time after time, month after month. They would get so close so often but each time, she evaded their grasp. It was like she knew he was looking for her. It was like she was toying with him. He couldn’t even say he was surprised if that was in fact what she was doing. But Jake was running out of time. How long could a body go unlived in?

They spent months going from motel to motel, paying people for information, buying people to get them off their backs. But finally after four long months, Jake darted into the singular room he and Josh had been sharing for several days just outside of New Orleans, just beyond the bustle of nightlife in the heart of the city.

“I found her,” he had said. And his eyes had held a hope that Josh hadn’t seen since their journey began.

That journey had brought them to the warehouse they now found themselves standing in front of: a large, empty structure that looked like it had gone abandoned for the last decade. That was where they had finally pinned Rebecca down.

When they did finally enter, they found her sitting at a large oak desk, the only piece of furniture left in the concrete room. And it was clear she had let them catch up to her.

They crossed the sprawling, utilitarian room to her quickly, nothing but the sound of boot heels clicking on the concrete beneath. Jake led the way, eyeing Rebecca carefully. She sat with her knee-length-clad boots propped up against the edge of the desk, swiveling lazily from side to side in a rusted and hardened green leather office chair with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes doing a dance between the two brothers.

It all felt far too casual for Jake’s taste.

Josh looked on her with softer eyes from behind his brother. The good cop in the situation. Or at least, that was what he had prepped himself to be.

Although they had never spent much time together, Josh recognized her as the woman who had been the first in Jake's vampire life to break his heart. He'd had to do quite a bit of damage control thanks to her. But even so, he understood her to be a bit more nuanced than Jake ever wanted to believe. He knew what she had done to him but he also knew why she had done it in the first place. It was all very complicated. Still, he often wished she had chosen a different vampire to do her dirty work for her.

“Josh,” Rebecca greeted him with easy eyes and a lazy smile when she saw the curly-haired twin that she had always liked a little more than his brother..

“Rebecca,” Josh greeted her back just as amicably.

On the other hand, Jake and Rebecca needed no introductions. It was pointless. Frivolous. They'd never had that kind of relationship, one where they pretended. Or at least, Jake had never thought they'd had that kind of relationship.

And they certainly weren’t ones to play nice when he had tracked her down several times over the years, unbeknownst to his family.

“Is there a reason you've been following me?” she asked, settling back into her chair comfortably as she set her accusatory eyes on Jake. “I thought we were done with this.”

Jake silently hoped Josh never asked questions about that.

“If we were done with it then why did you let me find you?” he asked, his tone just as accusatory.

“You clearly need something,” Rebecca answered. But then her voice went a little softer. “And I guess I still have a soft spot for you.”

Jake wasted no time. Rebecca was slippery and he didn’t like finding himself a slave to the very thing he had thought he’d outgrown when he became immortal. “I found my tie. She died stopping Cassius from killing me. All because I turned her. All because I turned you.”

“Sounds like you should have taken better care of her,” Rebecca quipped.

“It never would have been a problem if you hadn't done what you did,” he argued back just as quickly

Rebecca dropped her boots off the edge of the desk and stood to reprimand him with her tongue.

“Oh Jacob, don't tell me you're still hiding from your responsibilities with that stupid party trick you call a gift and your pretty little face. You very easily could have let her die a natural death the first time.”

Normally he'd fight back, chuckle off the insults, throw a few of his own. But the time Jake had spent without his gifts and grieving his tie had left him exhausted, the type of which sleep couldn't touch, even if he could convince his body to do it. And it had put him on edge, a place he always teetered now. Always so close to losing it.

“Please, Rebecca,” he breathed slowly with closed eyes and clenched fists, “this is the only thing I'll ever ask of you.”

Rebecca could hardly poke fun at him in this state. Actually, she’d never seen him this way before. Jake with a soul tie, it was something she couldn’t imagine. But the way he was now without said tie was something she hoped she'd forget soon after his departure.

“What is it that you want, Jacob?” she asked with a flood of sympathy warming her otherwise cold demeanor.

“You can resurrect her, I know you can.” He nodded to himself as he said it as though he were trying to convince himself of it all the more.

“I'd need the body if I were to do it.”

“Yes, I have her.”

Rebecca was silent for a moment while she thought about what Jake was asking of her.

“Did you bind before she died?”

Jake shook his head, trying not to remember his last night with his tie. It was a night he still couldn't face, not without his gifts. Not unshielded as he was.

“You've lost your gifts then?” she pressed.

Jake clenched his teeth tightly and gave her a tired nod, not so much as uttering a single word that he hardly had the strength for anyway.

Rebecca fell silent again as she contemplated everything she knew about necromancy. Things Jake knew nothing about that he now asked for so easily. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, even harder on the dead than it was on the living. But something told her Jake wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I'm not sure you understand what you're asking me to do,” she said simply, like she was testing the waters of his resolve. How far he was prepared to go to be reunited with the woman he loved.

“I understand quite well,” was all he said. And the growing tension in his voice and in his body was palpable.

“She sacrificed herself for you, yes? Then she is at rest. You will be ripping it from her and it will not be gentle.”

Before Jake could further agree, and rather blindly, at that, Josh interrupted with a concerned look knitting his brows together and tugging down at his lips that never formed such a look very gracefully.

“What exactly does that mean?”

Rebecca breathed deeply before she found a seat propped up on the edge of the desk, like a teacher preparing for a lecture.

“When a person dies and becomes a vampire,” she began, “it isn't like actually dying. Their soul never touches the afterlife. Your tie, however?” she gestured toward Jake, “She's become one with it. Bringing a soul back from that is terribly violent. It's even more unnatural. Even more painful. She'll struggle to feel right in this world.”

“I'll help her,” Jake answered quickly, growing tired of this line of questioning when he was running out of time, a feeling he wasn't used to and didn’t plan to savor.

“Now wait a minute, Jake,” his twin stopped him, “are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

Jake turned on his brother incredulously, his feet slipping so casually off that edge he'd been riding precariously.

“What the fuck are you even saying?” he snapped. “Do you hear yourself right now? Don't you want her back or did you never fucking care about her at all?”

“Of course I fucking care about her, I loved her before you ever laid eyes on her! But we'll be changing her life forever. Again.” Josh fought back with tears in his eyes and strain in his voice that had been sitting just behind the thin veil of strength he’d adorned for his brother.

He couldn't help but feel this was all his fault at the end of the day. He was the one who had sought out the human. He was the one who had invited her into his life. He was the one who had introduced her to the people for whom she'd die.

“How am I supposed to live without her?” Jake croaked, his voice breaking in a way that he hated to put on such visible display for others. But it was unavoidable.

And it rendered Josh silent.

“Why did you come all this way if you were just going to turn against me when we found her?” Jake asked again, this time resentment rearing its ugly head. “You knew what this was. You knew what we were here to ask for.”

Josh shook his head, just as exhausted as his brother if he were to admit it. And he hadn't. His brother needed him; he didn't have time for the self pity he desperately wanted to bathe himself in. But he was exhausted.

“I'm not turning against you,” he said quietly. “I mourn for her too, you know. I do. I ache for her. I…I grieve for her.”

He had been crying for her since long before she had died the second time but he left that part unsaid for his brother’s sake.

“Then let me do this,” Jake insisted.

Josh fell silent again, offering up only a simple nod of his head as he cast his eyes downward and swore himself to silence. And in the wake of the fight, Rebecca braved the aftermath.

“I can't guarantee she'll still be tied to you when she returns. Soul ties are vampire magic, evolved to help the loneliest of creatures cope with their endless existence. When she comes back, she'll no longer be just vampire. You might do all of this, Jacob, all of this, and still lose her in the end. Are you prepared for that?”

Jake gave her an unconvincing nod that caused a sigh to erupt from her chest as she leaned further back onto the solid oak desk behind her.

“How long has she been dead?” she asked.

“Four months.”

Rebecca's eyes went wide. “Four months? Are you out of your mind?”

“Well maybe if you hadn't been so fucking hard to find-” he answered tersely, barely meeting her eyes.

“Jacob, four months?” she continued, “Four fucking months? It’ll be torture, you cannot do this.”

“Oh come on, Rebecca,” Jake finally snapped and stared her down, his impatience and anger showing. “You've done worse.”

“I've done worse to people who deserved worse,” she corrected. “This would be torment for her.”

Jake's teeth clenched harder, threatening to shatter the bones.

“Rebecca,” he spoke slowly to control his anger, “can you do it or not?”

Rebecca found another deep sigh bubbling in her chest. She wasn't exactly morally opposed to much but this just seemed cruel to Jake's lover. Still, she could see just how badly he needed this. He needed his gifts to get by and clearly, he needed her too. And if this was the last thing he'd ever want from her, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

“Yes, I can do it. But there is something else. You didn't bind before she died. If I bring her back and the tie does still exist, it'll be weak. Weak enough to break, if she asks me to. Are you so certain she'll still want you?”

He waved her off with a single hand but she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn't just doing it to get her off her back, something he'd worry about when she wasn't around.

Rebecca only stared at him, captivating his eyes when he realized she'd gone silent. And Josh, being an onlooker in all this, the things said and the things unsaid, took that as his cue to leave them to whatever fight must have been brewing that he certainly didn't need to be a part of.

“I'll give you two a minute,” he said softly before ducking out of the warehouse with only a single nod to Rebecca and a single nod returned.

When he left, Jake released a heavy sigh. “You don't need to say anything. I hear you, okay? I hear you.”

“I'm not sure you really do but I guess that's your problem to deal with.”

Jake chuckled out a dark laugh and brought his hands to his tired face to wipe at his skin and dig his fingers in to stop the headache before it came.

“If she really hates me that much after it all, you should stick around. Maybe we can rekindle,” he joked.

It earned a hearty scoff from Rebecca.

“Even tied, you're still exactly the same you you were when I left.”

“An opportunist?” he smiled weakly at her.

“Blinded by your own interests,” she corrected.

But his face fell with the weight of what he'd been dealing with for months and Rebecca could see that he'd hardly meant it.

“I can't cope. I feel like I can't even fucking breathe without her.”

“You don't breathe,” Rebecca quipped, earning another dark laugh from Jake whose smile didn't even come close to touching his eyes.

“Don't make me miss you, Rebecca. My heart belongs elsewhere.”

Maybe he was different. That's what Rebecca couldn't help but think as she watched the vampire she had known for so long to be cool and calm and collected practically twitch and wince with visible pain right before her eyes. She might have even felt bad for him if she liked him a little more.

“Well then let's get her back so I can get you out of my hair.”

—

An endless tide on an endless shore. You could reach out your arms in either direction and feel nothing but warm pebbles beneath your skin. You had crawled up and out of the ocean only to sink your body against the warmth. That's where you stayed, unmoving, as clouds danced along the sky and gulls played in the air.

There was no time that bound you. There were no sunsets and sunrises to mark the persistent drum of change. There was only warmth holding your body to the ground as you sunbathed, memories of your life coming to you as gently as the tide grabbed further and further up the shoreline.

You’d felt the presence of your parents alongside you since you’d crossed over from shore to beach, lying on those warm rocks on either side. They had made that beach for you. They had harnessed the sun and let it beat down to warm the spot they had saved for you.

They had walked with you along the beach many times, your mother especially. She practically never left your side.

“My beautiful daughter,” she said often. “Oh how I missed you.”

You let your eyes fall shut at the sound of her voice every time, soft and yet somehow overpowering the sound of waves crashing. It was just as you heard it in your memories, sweet and melodious.

Sometimes you’d stroll alone, taking in the waves as they crashed and the sun which never seemed to set. You couldn’t even remember how you’d gotten there but you remembered the hands that had sent you. You remembered the hands that had given you such peace.

But that was the thing about peace. It could come crumbling down at any moment. And when yours did, it turned to ice first, splintering at the edges and chilling you through, before it rained down like fire.

“Oh,” you had heard the voice of your mother say as she stood on the beach and watched balls of fire fall from the sky. “My dear, I don’t think they want you here.”

When you had turned to seek her face, you found only a pile of bones where she had stood.

“No!” you screamed out as you ran to her, your hands trying to collect her amongst the sand so grotesquely.

You gasped and heaved and sobbed as you turned your eyes toward the sky. The world around you that was once warm and filled with deep blues and stark whites now turned black and red, angry and smokey. You choked on it as you stood to run before it could overtake you.

But you weren't fast enough. The smoke reached you, enveloped you in its angry grip and flung you back out on the other side. And as you went, you felt the hands of a million lost souls scream at you and grab at you, hitching a ride with you as you went tunneling through time, now a lost soul yourself.

You shot upward with a gasp, scanning your scenery for your parents and the birds and the ocean. But what you saw instead was a metallic gray room, cold and lifeless and filled with standing bodies just as similar in state.

“Where am I?” you gasped out, barely even able to speak as your body groaned with stiffness and fatigue and a pain radiating throughout the entirety of it as it woke from a sleep from which it hadn't planned to return.

“You're alive,” the boy closest to you answered with a smile that seemed to signal relief forming on his lips. “We brought you back.”

We brought you back. You didn’t understand.

“No, no, no…” You struggled to your feet, pushing the boy off of you hard when he tried to catch you. “My parents were-they were-” You glanced around the room at the surroundings you didn’t recognize, your body and your lungs fighting through a searing pain while you collapsed not far from the metallic bed you’d been lying on.

“What have you done?” you frantically questioned everyone and no one all at once, your voice all but failing you as you sank against the cool floor and scooted your body ungracefully back and out of the boy’s reach until you hit a wall. “What have you done? What did you do to me?”

But the boy continued to follow you across the room until he came to a kneel before you, raising a hand to stop the movement happening behind him as some of the onlookers seemed to stir.

You glanced about the room again, slowly coming to the realization that you were back in your body, back on Earth, back in your physical form and surrounded by the concerned faces of the people you must have left behind. You blinked hard, trying to urge the fuzzy figures to focus in your field of vision. And eventually, each one turned from a haze to a distinct person with features, some that you recognized, one that you didn't. But to your horror, they weren’t the only ones there. There were shadows and voices, clawing and moaning and whispering. The ones that had grabbed at you on your journey back from the place you had been, beings who could find no rest the way you had.

Your face hardened when it hit you: you'd been torn from the warmth of the beach just to be brought back to this cold, unforgiving place.

You settled your eyes back on the face that now sat crouched close to you. You recognized him, you knew you did. And yet you struggled to put face to name.

“Do you…do you remember us?” he asked softly as you squinted at him.

He looked teary-eyed and worried but like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a weight you now feared you carried around on yours. But you did remember him. And the longer you stared at him, the clearer the memories of your life together, short as it had been, became.

“I remember you,” you answered in a quiet voice, still not totally sure how to use your voice at all although your body seemed to remember. It quivered and faltered and you did your best to clear it as you tried just as hard to remember your life on Earth. “I-I died for you, I think.”

He nodded quickly, mouthing out a ‘yes’ as his voice failed him and tears began to stream steadily down his face.

“I had to…I had to make it right,” he croaked weakly.

It was peculiar to see such emotion on his face. You hadn't seen anything so messy in ages and your fingers instinctively reached out to touch the water droplets as your brows hunkered down in confusion. But the moment your skin connected to his, you felt a wave of yearning wash over you, like this was a piece of you you had been missing without even realizing it.

It was Jake. Of course it was Jake.

“My soul was yours,” you reminisced in a gasp as your fingers lingered curiously on his skin.

Suddenly, you remembered the last night you had spent with him. You remembered the tie that connected you, running through you both and joining you together. You remembered how hard you had fought it until the day he was in danger. And you remembered dying for him at the hand of another.

But he looked confused at your revelation.

“Was?” he questioned.

“Pieces of it are gone now,” you answered simply, still studying your fingers now wet with his tears.

He shook his head and glanced back at the others around him before turning back to you.

“I don't understand.”

When you dropped your fingers from your field of vision and met those golden brown eyes again, a wave of sadness washed over you. You could tell that he had spent many agonizing days awaiting this very moment. In fact, he almost looked dead himself. The skin on his face sagged downward farther than it seemed to want to stretch. And the bags under his eyes had taken on an almost bruise-like hue. He had kept misery for his company as long as you had been gone; it was plain to see on his face and in the way his shoulders fell so quickly and so far with your mention of a soul now shattered across realms. And even though you could guess why he had done it, you knew he didn't fully understand what exactly it was he had done as the invisible souls lining the edges of the room crept ever closer.

Even now you could hear them, the voices of the dead who weren't yet at rest, some supernatural, some human, many seeming to have attached themselves to the unfamiliar face in the room. You could see them all, hear them all, feel them all. They wished to usher you back down but their hands, greedy and helpless, could no longer get a grip on you.

Your lips fell into a hard, thin line.

“You should have left me dead, Jake.”

You heard a whisper from across the room, urging a large, curly-haired man out the door with a gentle and almost imperceptible, “Come on,” and nudge against his arm. Danny and Adele. The names flooded back to you as you watched them don sympathetic smiles, Danny clapping Jake on the shoulder gently just before they both left the room without another word.

The strange woman on the wall adjacent to you was the next to turn and leave, bringing another boy trailing behind her who looked just as tired as Jake. He was familiar, too. Maybe even more familiar than the others. And as soon as you saw the soft, toothy grin he gave you, the memories flooded back to you.

It was Josh. How could you have forgotten him and your time together?

When the room emptied, your eyes found Jake again and your hand found his as he fumbled to keep his emotions in check.

“I can’t feel you,” he shook his head almost frantically. “I can’t feel anything.”

“How long have I been gone?”

“Four months.”

You inhaled a deep breath at the time you had missed. Of course, time didn't exist wherever you had been and four months had passed as slowly as a lifetime for you. Maybe for Jake too.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you stay dead. I couldn’t live without you.”

You rested your hand on his cheek and he leaned into the touch to savor it. He even seemed to lose himself in it. It made you feel all the more guilty knowing that something he now needed so desperately would never bring you the same comfort again.

“I just hope you don’t come to regret it,” you answered softly.

His eyes dropped open again to look at you, confused. “Why would-? I would never regret it, y/n, never,” he insisted.

But you dropped your hand, settling back with another sigh at your lips and letting your eyes quickly dart around at the beings left in the room that he obviously couldn’t see.

“I’m not what I was, Jake. I hear them. They're crying out. There are lost souls all around us. Some of them even want to take me but they know I'm not theirs anymore.”

You watched as his eyes followed the trail yours had made, desperately trying to see what it was you could and looking scared that he might. But of course, they saw nothing but the empty room before him.

“I’ll protect you,” he answered quickly as he turned back to you. “I'll help you drown them out.”

He looked equal parts desperate and hopeful, frantic and optimistic. So much dissonance on one beautiful face. So much contradiction for one lonely man. But it was your stoicism that seemed to decimate him most efficiently, your even, calm demeanor even as you said things he didn't want to hear, things he didn’t understand but that hurt him regardless. Even just this way, he could tell you were different. Not so much as a single smile had even graced your lips in the time you'd woken gasping and hurting and desperate for the dead you had left behind. It all threatened to make the tears fall harder from his eyes.

“I can’t feel you,” he whispered through the sea of pain that raged on in his body, pain that was visible even to you. “You have…you have to tell me how you feel."

"I don't know how I feel," you answered flatly as your eyelids drooped and your body sank lower.

He took his own face in his hands to rub at his temples and along the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply to steady himself. And as he did, you watched him carefully. You watched his hands work over his own skin and thought of the many times he had touched you with purpose.

It was your fault, you suddenly remembered. Your refusal to bind to him had put you both in danger. And for four months he was left alone to cope with the loss, no ounce of his gifts to untangle him from the mess of his own emotions. You weren’t certain you belonged here anymore but you knew you didn’t want him to make his home in grief. Actually, you couldn’t bear to see it.

“I died for you,” you whispered, prompting him to raise his head again so as not to miss even a single word you might speak.

He shook his head quickly, back and forth for a long moment. “It was never supposed to happen that way. It should have been me.”

Of course, it was always supposed to happen that way. But it was hard for mere immortal things so plagued by the illusion of control to understand such things. It was an illusion, the things you had deemed meant to happen, just like your tie, a force that now felt weak and strangled in comparison to how you'd remembered it feeling just before you died.

You had died for Jake, yes, but it was another who had killed you. You knew this. Could almost remember it, too.

All you were left with in the way of memories were the hands, soft and gentle, that had taken your face between them. They had taken you away from it all. They had brought you peace. They weren't here now but they hadn't followed you to where you had gone either.

Hands. An ocean. Deep and dark and all-encompassing. A boy drifting out in front of you…

“Sam was there.” You remembered him in an instant. And suddenly, you remembered how badly your heart throbbed over his absence.

“Do you remember it?” Jake asked, bringing you back to him with his voice.

Now that you had remembered it, it was impossible to expel from your mind.

“I was in the ocean, under the water,” you recalled aloud. “And he was there. It was peaceful.”

Sam was the one you had longed for in the end. You remembered it now.

Jake seemed to wince at the mention of his brother but he said nothing. But even in his silence, you felt a familiar pang of guilt that your vampire form had lived with for months. And you remembered the circle you'd been caught in. An entanglement, someone had once called it.

“I don't…” you trailed off, unable to word the way you felt coming back into your body.

You felt off. Actually, you felt entirely wrong. You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be back on that beach with your parents, lying peacefully under the sun. You weren't supposed to be alive or half-alive or half-dead or whatever it was you were now. And there was an anger that rang familiar in your body, too, but this one felt much more dangerous, the fire not yet lit inside of you to feed it properly, the way it desired and demanded to be. But you felt it. That was the cacophony of emotions you had thought you'd left behind you for good. And now, once more, they plagued you, just like those spirits and demons less than thrilled at your second-or third-opportunity to fuck things up.

You didn't know how to live with it.

“Don't what?” Jake questioned, his brows hunkering down as he braced himself for whatever tragic words you were about to speak.

“I…I don't remember how to be alive.”

It seemed almost a relief to him when you said it and he couldn't help but laugh. And that smile; it suited him much better than the pain. You remembered wanting to protect it if you could.

“I’ll remind you,” he promised with another squeeze to your hand.

You gave him a smile back but in your mind, you already knew the truth. He wasn't the one you needed.

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